These Hands That Bear Us
by Zeff N Company
Summary: FtSKM: Cloud had never wanted a relationship, because a relationship was a promise he was afraid he couldn't keep. With Leon badly crippled with no memory of their shared past, that choice wasn't necessary anymore. Now all Cloud wanted was to have Squall back.


Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme.

Prompt: Cloud and Squall have been a couple for a few years and are living happily together until one day Squall gets in a accident which gives him amnesia and all the memories of their relationship is completely wiped out.

Squall can't remember ever loving Cloud and when Cloud tries to convince him that yes, they are a couple, Squall won't believe him.

My prompt is for Cloud to desperately try and make Squall fall in love with him once again. "I made you say 'I love you' once and I can make you say it again!"

2nd prompt: Squall/Leon + Cloud + at least 1 disability of your choice (either physical or mental)

(An old one I never got around to finishing - as much as I admit to picking on Squall, having him hit rock bottom isn't easy for me. Wonderful World doesn't count - it was a shameless parody and I had script reference.

And yet, the idea for it never truly left me, I think. I couldn't re-work it if I tried, it just had to be this way. It helped that I was still on a Gunmetal roll when I tackled it again. On that note, I'm still working that next chapter, it just needs more time...

Thanks for dropping by!)

* * *

><p><em>He wasn't sure anymore, what he had been thinking five seconds ago before his feet no longer felt anything solid beneath them. He wondered if he had been thinking at all.<em>

_Yet, if only for a moment, he knew he had humored just one little thought: that maybe, just maybe, he would stay airborne. He would never feel the pain of impact jar his knees at his journey's end._

_He thought he could fly again._

_And then he started to fall._

_It was a hand that caught his, wrapping around his wrist with surprising force. He had startled, and then he looked up into a pair of eyes that glowed near-silver in the setting sunlight._

_Leon glared right back at him, and his hand continued to hold fast to Cloud's as his lips parted into an irate growl._

"_How serious are you...? Really...?" he demanded softly, his tone filled with quiet anger. "I honestly thought better of you than this."_

_Remembering again what he had lost, Cloud turned away from that accusing gaze, his head lowering to his chest. He felt heavy... leaden. Invisible shackles binding him to the ground far below were taut and pulling tighter still._

_Losing the darkness inside him was supposed to be a good thing, but now he never felt weaker in his life._

"_... Let go," he told the other. "Just leave me alone."_

_Leon's answer was to tighten his grip even further, and Cloud felt pins and needles prickle at his fingertips. "Damn it, Strife, get a hold of yourself."_

"_This isn't your problem."_

"_The girls expect to see you again," Leon reminded him, his tone a little gentler. "They would never forgive me if I lose you now, so that makes it my problem."_

"_Why do you care?" Cloud spat back, feeling his anger mixed with misery rise inside him. "You don't know what this feels like. You don't know anything about this. You don't know _anything_ about me."_

_When the man above him was silent, Cloud felt himself sag further as he waited..._

_Then the hand started to pull upwards, strained and slow but steady._

"_I know one thing about you, Strife," the voice above his head told him firmly. "You're a fighter. You carry your sword for a reason, and as long as that reason means something to you, you'll never stop fighting for it. Even if fighting means you need to live, to see your reason keep existing."_

_His heart skipped a beat. He remembered._

_He looked up again._

_Leon looked back down and nodded. He didn't say anymore as he continued to pull Cloud back up and over the ledge._

_He didn't know anything about this man either, Cloud realized slowly. He didn't know why he would go out of his way to look out for a stranger. He didn't know what motivated the man to find him, to catch him, and to haul him back onto his feet._

_He did know that the hand that held his, that pulled so steadily, was and would ever be the strongest hand he had ever grasped._

* * *

><p>He wasn't there when the accident happened – that just made it all the worse.<p>

It was Tifa who finally yelled at him – when neither Cid nor Aerith had been able to make him stay back or at least calm down. Everyone was already on edge, and in the end it took Tifa – always Tifa – to step up, rein him in, and force him out from the situation he could not control.

He had not moved from his chair in the kitchen since then. His glass of water had long since been drained, but the food on his plate had been left untouched. He couldn't even think of eating, he was so sick with worry.

Eventually familiar footsteps sounded from the stairs, and he looked up. It was Aerith who greeted him, her eyes red and her hands trembling. She looked exhausted and grief-stricken and utterly broken.

And when she told him, he felt himself shatter as well.

The injury had been too great, the delay too long. Between herself, Merlin and the medics, they had managed to stabilize him, to at least save his life. But nothing could be done to reverse what was already dead, that was allowed to stay dead if only for the span of a few precious minutes.

_I'm sorry,_ he could barely hear her whisper through her shuddering sobs. _I was too late. I failed._

Cloud managed to swallow, then got to his feet. He looked down at her bowed head, watching her shake like a leaf from exhaustion and that too-heavy burden she had on her shoulders. As easy as it should have been, he could not find in his heart to blame her for anything. If she were guilty of being slow, he was guilty of being absent.

Slowly, as gently as he could, he placed a hand on Aerith's shoulder and drew her into a comforting embrace. For a little while he just held her, letting her give in to her weary grief. As she cried into his chest, he felt the throbs of his own heart threaten to betray him, that any second he himself would collapse.

They stayed that way for what seemed eternity, holding each other up.

* * *

><p>The hours were agonizingly long, waiting for Leon to wake up.<p>

Aerith was her comatose friend's most frequent visitor, with Yuffie a close second. Cid was gone most of the time, having to pick up the slack that had resulted, but he was always there in the evening, always quietly staring out the window while playing with an unlit cigarette – he looked every bit of his true age in those moments. Even Tifa came, and after a few quiet apologies for yelling when she did, she found herself alternating between keeping Cloud company and offering kind words and support to Aerith.

Every day, every night, the Restoration Committee entered and exited Leon's room.

Cloud never did. He didn't think he dared. He just couldn't bring himself to touch the door, to look in. The Leon he knew stood tall without backing down to any adversary. The Leon he knew always had a hand on his gunblade and the other outstretched in an offer of aid. The Leon he knew was always there to find him when he slipped back into the darkness, always ready to pull him out again.

And damn him, he did not want to lose those memories of what Leon looked like.

Instead he stayed outside, pressing his back against the wall, listening and waiting. He heard Aerith whisper her apologies over and over again, heard Yuffie's pleas for the other to wake up already and scold everyone for the fuss. He heard Cid's fingers drum restlessly on the wooden table, heard Tifa's quiet reports of what was happening in the world outside of that room. He heard the steady beeps of the machines that reminded them all that in spite of everything, there was still hope.

And then a week later, he heard Leon's voice.

Then he heard Cid's, then Aerith's. Then he heard silence again... he could only assume they had told him.

When the door opened again, Cid looked utterly morose in his retreat, his hands already busy lighting his cigarette even before he could exit the house proper. Aerith came to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.

"... He knows, then?"

She nodded. "He's... processing. Whatever happens next, that's up to him now." She paused, taking a steadying breath. "Cloud, I... I think you should know, before you see him."

He finally raised his head and looked her in the eye, waiting for her to continue. She did.

"We asked him if he remembered his name and where he was." Of course they did – standard checks. "He remembers who he is just fine, but... he said 'Hollow Bastion'."

Cloud sat up straight, his eyes wide.

They had been Radiant Garden for about a year now. And it was in the past two years that he had... that _they_ had...

"Give him time, alright?" Aerith urged gently. "Maybe he will recover his memory, once he has the chance to heal. Just... be careful with him for now?"

Careful. Fragile. Wounded. Cloud hated how those words now related to the strong infallible leader he had known in those lost two years. Instead he drew in a calming breath, trying to dismiss them before he turned back to Aerith.

"... I should see him."

It hurt to see the broken form at the other side of the door. Propped up only by his raised bed and covered in white sheets, Leon had his head turned away, his eyes instead trained on the far wall. Cloud noticed they had cropped his hair, probably to get better access at his head injury. It made him look different, made accepting that he wasn't the same person just that little bit easier.

Strangely though, Cloud realized, he had no idea what the other was feeling. They had been open once, able to sense the other's mood just by standing near one another. Now he found nothing – no anger, no grief, not even fear. This broken shell of the man he once knew was either fully on guard or just... numb.

As he finally pulled up a chair and sat down, Leon did not move. Instead his eyes flicked to his right, taking in the sight of the other in the room with him.

"What are you doing here, Strife?" he asked quietly. It was a cold reminder of their current reality.

"Just wanted to check in on you," Cloud answered, as calmly as he could manage.

"Why?" Leon countered. "What do you care?"

_More than you know,_ he would have said. Instead he tried to dismiss the pain in his gut, tried to remind himself that two years ago, they really had not been anything remotely close to friendly. So much that had happened in those two years, suddenly ripped away from them...

They were back at rock bottom.

By all the gods, he did not want this.

"You really don't remember, do you?" he asked instead. He was met with tense silence. "That's a shame. You were ecstatic when you remembered our home's true name."

"So you say."

"It's true," Cloud reaffirmed. "I think it was the first time I saw your eyes light up like that." _Like you finally had something in your future worth living for._

That light was gone now, in those dull eyes that stared at him. Then Leon stopped looking his way, and those eyes returned their focus to the wall. "You can leave," he told the other. "I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit."

"... No, I don't." The dragging of his chair closer finally caught the brunet's attention. Finally they were face to face.

"Radiant Garden wasn't the only name I learned in that time and those memories you're missing..." He paused. His hand lifted and he reached forward. "... Squall."

Eyes that had widened in surprised suddenly narrowed. And then there was emotion: pure hatred.

"Don't call me that, Strife."

"Cloud," he insisted, drawing even closer. "You called me Cloud-"

Leon recoiled instantly.

"Is this your idea of pity?" He accused darkly. "Or did you just want to kick me while I'm down?"

Shock froze him for a moment, his hand landing awkwardly on the sheets. Then he reached forward again and grabbed the wrist that was a second too slow in its escape.

They both noticed at the same time, when Leon tried to tug his hand free - he was weaker, weaker than either of them had expected. Cloud stared openly in surprise. Leon choked at the betrayal of his own body and turned away again.

"Let go."

Recovering himself, Cloud instead tightened his grip. "Leon, you need to listen to me-"

"I need you to let go."

"Listen to me, Squall-"

"I said, _don't call me that!_" He jerked his hand again in the other's grasp to little avail, then suddenly he called out. "_Aerith_! _CID_! _Damn it, ANYBODY!_"

The door swung open at once, and Cloud released the captive wrist as Cid strode in while crushing his cigarette in a gloved hand.

"The hell's going on in here, boys?" their elder asked gruffly, though lacking his usual irate energy.

"Make him leave," Leon demanded, still turned away from the both of them. "I don't want him here."

It was depressing to hear those words. To have them directed at him with such dark bitterness... It was honestly pathetic.

Perhaps that was why, even before Cid could tap him on the shoulder, Cloud turned abruptly and left as quickly as his long strides could manage.

As he left the room, hurrying past the others with his line of sight fixed solely on the ground ahead of him, he felt reality wash over him with icy clarity – perhaps back in that room, another in his own discovery of newly found weakness felt the same way.

Leon would never walk again. He could never hold his weapon again.

In the span of those few precious minutes, the life he knew was over.

* * *

><p>"<em>SEPHIROTH! COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME!<em>"

The Dark Depths yielded nothing in reply. With a harsh growl, Cloud ripped his blade free from its sheath and swung it in a wide arc.

"You did this, didn't you?" he accused the still air. "You wanted so much for me to lose the light. You wanted me to give in to darkness... Well, _here I am! Come out here now!_"

Again there was nothing save silence. How ironic it turned out to be, that the one time Cloud sought out his nemesis, the other just wasn't there. It was as though his own darkness was laughing at him, _mocking _him for his failure.

_You didn't protect him._

_You didn't save him._

_You didn't cherish him._

_You got exactly what you deserve._

"... Face me, you bastard," Cloud growled hatefully. "Tell me you did this. Tell me all this was your fault. Give me someone to blame."

Still nothing. The lingering silence itself seemed to tell him the bitter truth he rejected so forcefully.

Sometimes there just wasn't anyone to blame. Sometimes there was just no villain to exact vengeance upon. Sometimes... tragedies just happened, beyond anyone's control.

There was nothing he could do to reverse it.

Stabbing the blade into the ground, Cloud threw his whole weight into it, driving it deep into the earth. When he could no longer budge it, he abruptly let it go. And then he threw his head back and screamed.

* * *

><p><em>He didn't know all the details nor their source, but for whatever reason Leon had started coaxing him back into fighting.<em>

_It started out simple, easy to understand – they only sparred, testing one another's skill and limits in basic combat until the both of them were utterly spent. They had few rules involved, neither man barely thinking much about summoning small flames or ice balls to turn the tide in their favor. All or nothing, nothing but their all. They would gladly slam into one another over and over again, blades singing and sparks flying as they met and separated from one another in a mad dance._

_With days passing like this, filled with these short explosive rounds of sparring that were interspersed among hours of the more mundane hard labor in restoration work, Cloud felt himself strengthening again. He felt his confidence return, his eagerness for the next spar, his pride that this strength was, truly, his own, earned by sweat and blood that nothing could take away._

_He wondered on the strangeness that his pride was reflected in Leon's eyes, in the way that man started to smirk more during their collisions, the way he sometimes laughed aloud when Cloud caught him unaware or momentarily bested him. Adding to the strangeness was how surprisingly _good_ that made him feel._

_To be held accountable. To live up to another's expectations. To surpass them._

_Somewhere between their return home and one of the many battles they fought either against one another or side by side, Leon stopped being the stranger who teamed with him in the Coliseum and started being his friend, if the only friend he could rely on to see him this way and reciprocate his own staggering trust._

_Somewhere between their simple sparring and their newly found respect and appreciation for one another, whatever rules they still had between them started to bend without breaking._

_As fierce and rousing and vigorous as their sparring was, there was a moment of calm right afterward, where they were side by side on the ground with two potion vials between them. Leon would tend to himself methodically, cleaning up well. Cloud would watch him work, his eyes never leaving the fingers that inspected faint thin lines that were once bleeding cuts._

_Eventually, Leon would look over at him, then hum just once to acknowledge what he was waiting for with just a faint hint of amusement. Picking up the second vial, he would turn and start to splash the curative formula over exposed skin, washing blood away to reveal clean, intact skin beneath. And as he did with himself, Leon traced his fingers over every line with a quiet curiosity._

_Perhaps it was his own reaction one time somewhere between mutual aid and comfortable contact that stopped what they had there and started them on a whole new path... because as Leon would brush those fingers over his scalp, he would sigh so deeply, a purr rumbled from his throat._

_Leon would pause his administration, would look back down at him. And always now, no matter their past, he would smile softly in understanding – so unlike the smirks that egged him into further excitement, Leon's smiles always calmed him, reassured him to relax and indulge himself if only for a moment._

_His own hand would reach up to brush along the other's collarbone, fingers sliding along slick metal links that were the other's pendant. And then he would reach up, take hold and tug._

_And as Leon's lips brushed against his in answer, he gladly let himself go all over again._

* * *

><p>It was late by the time he returned, but he could still hear the shouts and ruckus that made their way past wood and glass barriers. Worry flared anew as Cloud quickly turned the knob and strode in.<p>

He could hear Cid's voice, gruff and irate, and he could hear Aerith's pitched cries that were quickly and constantly interrupted by an unseen force. And as he got closer, he saw feet peeking from under kitchen table. Curious for a moment, he investigated.

"... Yuffie?"

The usually animated and confident girl ignored him, her hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. She wasn't crying – not this proud young lady – but she curled into herself as though fearful of attack. As though she _had_ been attacked and wasn't ready to face up to another.

And then they both heard Leon's dark, guttural cursing at the people around him, and Yuffie curled even tighter.

Never had they fallen this far before, this ragtag family group that banded together at first to survive and then to rebuild. Leon had seen to that, had looked out for them and made certain that everyone was on the same page. He had been their leader, the man they trusted to keep his head in the worst situations. He had kept the peace, maintained the order.

And now, broken and bleeding raw, Leon was tearing them all apart with a vengeance.

Unable to do anything for the girl, Cloud straightened and went instead to the source of her terror. The door was open, and the sight within was one he dreaded.

On the floor, Cid was wrestling with Leon, struggling to get a hold of him as he grumbled over and over again for the man to stay still and let them help. Aerith knelt beside them, her shaky hands raised as she tried again and again to cast Cure. Shards of porcelain – Cloud realized was once a heavy bowl – lay scattered over the carpet, and a distinct patch of red had formed an irregular shape around a weeping cut on Leon's foot that continued to stream blood.

And yet every time either tried and almost succeeded to keep the man still, Leon kept fighting them off with dark curses and furious snarls. There was such cold hatred in those eyes like none of them had seen before. Cid and Aerith were trying to ignore it... and not faring well at all.

"G'dammit, son, jus' hold _still_-!"

"Leon, please... please, let us help-!"

Despite his weaker upper body strength, Leon still managed to slam the heel of his palm into Cid's temple with enough force to knock the older man back again. Aerith's spell fizzed out again as she gasped. Cid groaned, suddenly lacking in any words to say, as he rubbed tiredly at his head.

"_Get out of here!_" Leon yelled at them both, one arm swinging wildly as the other barely kept him upright. "_GET OUT!_"

This was going nowhere.

Deciding quickly, Cloud stepped forward and in front of Cid, giving their elder barely a second to realize what he had in mind – all three were too exhausted from their unending battle to really catch on until Cloud suddenly grabbed Leon by his shoulders and wrapped him in a restraining embrace, his arms pinned. Immediately those hateful eyes homed in on him.

"_Get. Off. Me."_ The voice that growled at him was low and dark as a savage beast's.

Cloud held on, answering every attempt to fight him off by recapturing and tightening. He was all but hugging the trembling form in his arms as he finally heard Aerith cast the spell, and soft green light tended to the injury with little fuss. Even as the other two relaxed, Cloud did not let his seething captive go.

"I've got it," he told them both. He hoped they believed him.

Regardless, Cid gave in with a weary nod, and then beckoned for Aerith to join him. She was still shaking – Cloud could still see how much she more she added to her burden – before their elder finally coaxed her after him with gentler words on a hoarse tongue. The door closed behind them both.

Every time Cloud relaxed his grip ever so slightly, Leon started up his tired struggle to break free all over again. Every time Cloud started to move them, he pulled back with what little force he had left. His words were gone, replaced by harsh wheezing from a fury that the broken body could no longer give voice to.

When finally, after what seemed eternity, the brunet sagged into his hold, Cloud started to breathe a sigh of relief. It halted in his throat when he found the other had gone completely limp in stark contrast.

"... Leon," he called to him gently. "You okay?"

"... just end this."

He almost had not heard the raspy voice, and he wanted to believe he had not after all. But he could feel the other still trembling, defeated and helpless.

"Strife... please..." Leon begged him hoarsely. "Please, just end it..."

Time stood still. The air froze. Cloud felt his chest ache with a dread he could not get around. He could even bring up any words to say.

He could do nothing but hold on.

And then the man he held onto fell apart completely, his tremors giving way to violent shakes as he started to cry.

The Leon he knew never cried like this. The Leon he knew never broke this badly before, into so many pieces beyond salvage.

The Squall he knew was well and truly gone.

His chest still aching, his eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed, Cloud buried his head into his captive's shoulder.

And he held on.

* * *

><p>It was two days later when Cloud learned that Leon had broken that bowl on purpose – the second the blond had looked away, he had done the same to the water glass he had just been drinking from.<p>

At the shattering chime, Cloud cursed aloud and grabbed Leon by the wrist before he could drive a particularly dagger-like shard into his thigh. Leon snarled hatefully at him, and Cloud growled right back.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he demanded in vain – he might as well have yelled at a wall, except walls didn't fight him this hard.

Suddenly his hand stung sharply, and he realized in his bid for control he had cut himself instead. Blood spotted the sheets before he dropped the shard to the floor and out of the brunet's reach. He didn't even have time to staunch the cut when he found himself grabbing at the man again as he snatched up a smaller shard.

"Leon," he ordered sharply. "_Stop_."

When Leon's hand surrendered, he wanted to believe the man was finally listening to reason. But then Leon looked right back at him, still so angry, still so hateful. But buried in all that rage and hatred was a wobbling shimmer of something else: something desperate and miserable beyond logical rationality.

"If you won't help me," Leon replied harshly, "then don't bother coming back here."

Cloud felt his defenses fall again, leaving him unable to think or even answer. How _could_ he? A shadow passed the door, and he immediately called out: "I need some help in here!"

The door promptly swung open and Tifa stepped in. "Cloud? What is-oh _F_-!"

* * *

><p>"... so this is our life now," Tifa uttered ten minutes later. "Never mind walking on eggshells – we're practically in a minefield."<p>

Cloud held his silence, his eyes staring down at the white bandages Tifa had wrapped around his hand. Cure had not been enough to close it completely, and he could only imagine how much worse it could so easily have been. In that silence, he could not help but agree with her.

Tifa's fingers took hold of his injured hand again, and he could feel her warmth wash over him.

"... I don't know how to help him," he confessed. She hummed in acknowledgment.

"Which him?" she posed. He frowned.

"You know I mean Leon."

"Sure, but which Leon do you have your eye on right now?" To her credit, she still smiled gently despite the startled jerk of his hand from hers. "He's not the same Leon you knew, Cloud. You can't help him if you can't decide between his past self and his present self – _I_ would know."

"Tifa..." A pang of guilt throbbed in his chest. She must have noticed – she only shook her head and bid him listen.

"For years I chased the memory of the Cloud Strife I knew as a child, and for all that time I held on to that memory so tightly, I lost my grip on what was truly important. I chased your past until I drove you away instead. It took nearly losing you all over again to open my eyes. Don't do that to Leon, and don't do that to yourself."

"But I didn't forget you," Cloud pointed out quietly. "I could never forget you, or our home... or how small and weak I was when our home was lost. I was a mess that you could never have dealt with, and... you didn't see me at my worst."

That moment when even his darkness was ripped from him, leaving him still weak and helpless but also with a frayed hole in his very soul.

Tifa had not been there, and he would have sooner died than let her see him like that.

Instead it was Leon who had caught hold of him and pulled him back.

Cloud suddenly wondered if all this time, up until the accident, Leon had ever let go.

Except...

"... I never told him." His second confession seemed to break a barrier, and his words came easier. "Whatever we did, we never talked about what we were, exactly... I never wanted to. What we had was so convenient, I... I did not want a relationship."

_Doomed to failure anyway_. At least, that was what he had thought. It just wasn't what he wanted.

Again, she read him like an open book. Again, her hand on his comforted him as best her Light could reach him where he hid, in those dark corners of his brooding mind.

"You didn't know this would happen. None of us did."

"... I need a walk." There were too many thoughts in his head, too much to sift through. As he got up, one of those thoughts broke through. "Will you... keep an eye on him for me? Until the others get here?"

_Don't leave him alone._

Again she understood, and she nodded. "Of course."

* * *

><p><em>The calm after their bouts was all but commonplace well into the morning. No matter how vigorous and violent their spars or battles were, Squall never carried that same fierce energy into their bed, nor did he allow Cloud to.<em>

_Just as he wanted Cloud to feel alive again, Squall wanted the man to remember what his heart could feel in a moment of peaceful surrender. These moments were indulging, almost decadent. They lulled like a mother's embrace, and in these moments when no one could fault him for allowing himself to let his guard down, he was reluctant to leave._

_So it became routine for him to continue lying there with his chin balanced atop his folded arms, his eyes watching intently as Squall sat next to him and got dressed. The regular clothing never took long, but the impressive array of belts did. Those fingers working over leather and metal with meticulous grace was a subtly fascinating sight, stirring aching sensations of restlessness and longing in his gut._

_Finally, closing his eyes for a moment, Cloud extended his arm as though to stretch, and he deliberately brushed the back of his hand against the warm skin peeking from beneath Squall's shirt. For him – for them both – it was close enough to an embrace without being one._

_Because an embrace meant there was _something_ between them. Something like a relationship. A relationship meant commitment. Commitment meant promises._

_Cloud couldn't give a promise he feared he couldn't keep._

_And yet it never missed him, the way Squall straightened just a little at the feel of Cloud's knuckles against his waist. He did not have to see to know the man's small smile creeping onto his face, the light dancing in his eyes at what wasn't really there but could be._

_As much as he was not forcing it, Squall obviously wanted what Cloud feared to give him._

_Something more._

_They never spoke the words aloud, not with Cloud so afraid to hold tighter and Squall not wanting him to let go either, but then Squall would run his hand along the length of his belts to check for tangles, and then his hand would brush Cloud's if only for a fleeting second._

It's okay.

_They had their home back. Their home had her name back. They had a future here – they had the hope of a future to look forward to._

Take as long as you need to_, that strong yet gentle hand told him. _We have all the time in the world.

* * *

><p>He immediately noted how quiet it was when he returned to the house. The others had probably retired to their own homes for the night, and when he looked for Tifa, he found her asleep in the den, hidden in a sort of nest made haphazardly from spare blankets and sheets. Deciding it best to let her rest, he continued on his way.<p>

He still noticed the note that had been left for him on the table, next to a covered bed tray.

_Cloud,_ it said in Aerith's handwriting,_ when you get back, make sure Leon eats something._

_Make sure you eat something too, _it continued in Tifa's_. And no arguing._

When he uncovered the tray, he could see how carefully everything had been prepared, arranged in bite-sized pieces that would allow Leon to at least feed himself – if he even wanted to, anyway. He covered the tray again and made his way upstairs.

Entering the room for the second time, Cloud found the other already asleep. He looked peaceful... but then Cloud saw the stillness in his form and how vulnerable it made him look. Carefully setting the tray aside, Cloud pulled up the chair and sat down again - not close enough to touch, but close enough to watch.

He did not know for how long he had sat there, just watching over the other, when the brunet finally stirred and turned his head. Eyes hazy with sleep slowly cleared, and then Leon glared tiredly at him.

"My memory loss must be getting worse," he commented in a bitterly sarcastic tone. "I don't recall inviting you back in here."

He was weary of this - he wondered if they both were. "Just let me stay for a minute," he requested, trying not to sound like he was begging. "I can't fight with you again right now... Just give me a minute, and then if you want me to leave, I'll leave."

Leon quietly regarded him for a moment, then his shoulders slouched as he stared morosely down at the sheets covering his body.

"It's not like I can stop you," he muttered. His hand lifted to wave dismissively at the bareness of the room. "They all left and took everything with them. I can't do anything to you now."

Sure enough, anything remotely breakable was either gone or far from Leon's reach. So Leon had instead been left with his equally destructive thoughts, reliving memories and revisiting ideas over and over again. There was no telling where he had currently landed in his mental state.

"You can still do plenty when you want to," Cloud pointed out instead – he raised his bandaged hand just to bring it home. "See this? You did that. And Cid still has that bruise you left on his head."

Leon paused, a twinge of guilt breaking the surface. "... I hadn't meant that."

"He knows," and Cloud lowered his hand again, "and he doesn't hold it against you. None of them do – they... just want you to give yourself a chance."

"To what?"

"Get better."

"And then do what? If they're hoping for a miracle, then they're wasting their time."

Despite himself, the blond bristled. "... What do you mean by that, Leonhart?"

"What do you _think _I mean, Strife?" he fired back. The hand in his lap curled into a tight fist, bunching the once smooth sheets. "Did you forget how I can't even fight my own battles anymore?"

"You are _not_ weak," Cloud snapped at him, feeling his anger rise again. "_Never_ imply that."

"... '_not weak_'...?" That fist tightened even further, and then Leon ripped the blanket away. "_Look at me._"

Clothed in loose flannel trousers, the pair of legs looked so deceptively normal. Yet no matter what Leon did – no matter how much and how hard they both knew he was _willing_ it – neither moved. With a low curse, Leon grabbed one of them and squeezed, digging his nails through the thin fabric.

"... I can't do anything without help," he ground out. "I can't leave this room – this bed – without help. I can't even go to the _bathroom_ without help. All my life... for the rest of my life, I... I can't even..." And then he let his leg go, drooping even further. "A corpse has more worth than me."

There it was – in his words, in his tone, in the way he sagged limply over his paralyzed limbs and stared listlessly down at his useless knees.

Even now, Leon still wanted to die.

Cloud had no idea what to say to that.

Instead he rose from his seat and found the tray again. Uncovering it, he brought it back to the bed.

"... You need to eat something," he spoke quietly. "Aerith's orders."

"I'm not hungry," Leon answered sullenly.

Cloud recognized self-pity from a mile away, and he knew at least how to respond to _that_ – he had learned from the best, after all. One hand balancing the tray, he grabbed Leon by the shoulder and pushed him back. As the brunet blinked in surprise, Cloud seized the chance to set the tray down over his lap. There were two sets of silverware, side by side – he picked one for himself, then set the other down by Leon's hand.

"We're both eating," he informed the other. "And if you could handle the blanket, you sure as hell can handle your own fork."

To prove his point, Cloud promptly speared a steak cube and started to eat. Leon did not follow his lead, simply staring down at the fork like he had no idea what to do with it. Cloud chewed for a little longer, then swallowed. Lowering his own fork, he sighed.

"... don't do this to yourself," he tried again. "Not even for me... but you should know that the others care about you. Aerith still blames herself for not helping you in time. Was she right? Is this her fault?"

"... no."

"Then is it Cid's fault – wasn't he supposed to _know_ if the structure was unstable? Or maybe it was Yuffie's, since it was _her_ shift you were covering?"

"No," Leon repeated. "It's not their fault. None of this is."

"Then why punish them for it?" Leon finally looked up at him, and for a minute he looked a little less apathetic. It was working. "They will never forgive themselves if they lost you now."

There was silence between them, as Leon regarded him as though finally seeing him for the first time. For a faint moment, he looked like the man Cloud had known so well, before the accident that had destroyed him... and it hurt. He quickly ducked back down and took another bite of food.

His eyes caught sight of movement, and then he watched as Leon's fingers slowly wrapped around his fork, hesitantly picking it up. He still watched as the brunet mulled over his choices for a moment before selecting a potato wedge. Then as the fork reached for a second helping, Cloud returned his attention to his own portion.

If only for a little while, they could pretend that nothing was wrong – it was just the two of them, awkwardly companions for lack of the others, simply sharing a meal. And when Leon pretended that his hand had not started to shake, Cloud pretended not to notice.

But Leon still gave up at last, and laid his fork down again without so much as a sigh. Only then did Cloud finally look at him again, watching the brunet draw his trembling hand into his lap, the other coming up to grip at his wrist.

"All done?"

At a faint nod, the blond set his own fork down and removed the tray. When he turned back, he did not comment on the sight of Leon rubbing his hands together - instead he circled around the bed and retrieved the discarded sheets from the floor.

"I'll be downstairs," he informed the other while draping the blanket back over his lap, "so if you need anything-"

"You don't have to do that."

"What if I want to?"

"... and why would you want to?" With his question, Leon looked up at Cloud. "We both know the man you're looking for is dead."

So even _he_ had noticed.

The strong man he feared to love in his past. The broken shell that was afraid of his expectations now.

They were too far, one from the other. In no way would they ever be the same man.

But Leon was alive.

That had to be enough. It had to.

This time, when his hand took a firm grip on Leon's shoulder, the man tensed but did not force him away. He was listening.

"... You're not dead, Leon," Cloud told him. "Not yet. And every last one of us will do whatever it takes to keep you here with us for a day longer."

Dull grays wobbled, as that shell wanted so much to believe that but just couldn't take the step. Leon kept his head turned away, but his eyes looked up regardless.

"... Even you?"

It wasn't a plea. It was a test.

_Don't make a promise you can't keep._

He didn't honestly know what had snapped inside him, but Cloud did not hesitate.

"Even me," he answered, his voice as firm as the grip he maintained on the other's shoulder.

Maybe he was done with being afraid. His friend needed this promise – needed _him._ And he would need him from now on.

_I'll be here. I swear it._

* * *

><p>Things didn't get easier immediately. If anything, it only got harder. The struggles got worse, the fights got fiercer, the battles against depression, illogical rage and suicidal tendencies never seemed to let up.<p>

Leon continued to change, to depart from the man of the past – that much was obvious to them, as he shifted from his anger and his depression to denial and compromise. Some days he was absolutely terrifying to be around, others he was insufferable with his refusal to accept their help.

And then, like a ray of light breaking through a dark storm cloud, Leon started to recover – mentally, if nothing else.

One morning, he quietly – albeit reluctantly – asked Cloud to go get Yuffie and let him speak with her alone. Whatever words they exchanged started soft and nervous, but then escalated quickly into what the others concluded was Yuffie forgiving her older brother figure for every hurt he unintentionally had caused her – the girl had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and her devotion to her adopted family remained unshaken in spite of everything.

When Leon finally called for someone to pry her from him, she was grinning a mile a minute and he was flushed with embarrassment. They weren't all the way there yet, but they would be okay.

Cid was next, and though there was a distinct lack of hugs and smiles, the two men spoke with solemnity about the future – the Restoration work needed to go on with or without their former management. Roles had to be reassigned, Merlin would most definitely have to be recalled from Disney castle if only to help until the adjustments smoothed out. Cid, however, pointedly refused Leon's resignation. There were other things he could do, the gruff elder pointed out, instead of permanently gluing his lazy ass to that bed. Their talk ended on a good note, with the promise of further discussion.

With Aerith there was little that had to be said between them, but what little there was _had_ to be said. Cloud had peeked in just once, to find the girl finally letting go of her burdens and crying freely into Leon's arms as he repeated over and over the same few words: "Not your fault. Aerith, this is not your fault..."

Picking up the pieces. Repairing burned bridges.

Learning to live again.

And beyond that...

There were times when Cloud went up and found Tifa already there, lightly exchanging words with Leon. If they detected their intruder they stopped, but the blond guessed that he was somehow the main topic of their discussions. He didn't know if that bothered or intrigued him.

Yet with Cloud, there were no words at all. Perhaps there was just nothing else that needed to be said – Cloud was always the first to greet him at the start of the day, the first to offer his help without the need to even ask, the first to respond when a sudden fit or meltdown stalled anyone else... and the last to leave. Always there.

He was there when Leon surprised everyone one fine evening, when one of the newer recruits into the Committee decided to be an arrogant punk and mouthed off to his superior officer.

"Shut up." At Leon's growl, the kid blanched and did exactly that while the man glared full-force at him and continued, "Merlin is a professional, a war veteran, and very capable of turning you into a caterpillar. You will do _exactly_ as he says, and _exactly_ how he wants it done, or so help me you can go home right now and never come back."

Perhaps it never mattered if Leon had the threat of violence to back up the words – in his frosty glare, his unshakable stance, and his fierce commanding aura, he was still a leader, still feared by any on the receiving end of his anger. The kid squeaked an apology, grabbed the list of materials and fled with his tail between his legs. With any luck, they wouldn't have to send him back to Twilight Town too soon after all.

Cloud couldn't have felt prouder.

But then there was a shaky release of breath, and immediately the blond noticed the man move his free hand out of sight, hiding his trembling fingers as his other hand raked through his bangs in an irritated move.

Leon had not said anything, but when he felt a now familiar hand reach over and squeeze his shoulder, his eyes closed briefly in relief.

"... he pisses me off," he confessed quietly, earning an amused huff.

"Teenagers do that, yes," Cloud pointed out lightly. "Want to call it a day?"

"... I _would_ like some air."

"Let's go, then."

The others didn't comment when Cloud leaned forward and picked Leon up, nor was anything said when Cloud proceeded to carry the other from Merlin's reclaimed home and back towards the Bailey. It had long stopped being a fight or spectacle and settled into a somber fact of their current reality, where the road would always be too uneven and one of them would never make that journey by himself anymore.

Life didn't go back to normal. It just carried on.

* * *

><p>"Is this good?"<p>

On the edge of the cliff, Cloud adjusted his grip on the man beside him, his hand at his lower back below the damaged column. In this way he kept Leon upright without the other consciously feeling it. His head back and his eyes closed, hands deliberately suspended just above the earth, Leon relished the wind against his face.

"...yeah," he answered quietly. "Feels like I'm flying."

The illusion of floating, the lack of sensation from just below his chest and lower to remind him of his anchor, and with the wind that whipped at them none too gently... perhaps it _did_ feel something like that.

Cloud remembered being able to fly, once, when he still had his wing. He remembered what it had felt like, in those pure, simple moments that were his alone. So he chose not to bring that up or correct the other.

There was nothing wrong in letting the man, if for a second, taste freedom.

"... Cloud?" at an acknowledging hum, "There's something I want to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"Why are you still here?"

"I told you I would be."

"... but you didn't have to. You didn't for any of the others, not even for Tifa." And then Leon opened his eyes and turned his head to look behind him. "Exactly what did I do two years ago that keeps you here now?"

Cloud considered the question, remembering a past only he still remained aware of. He smiled.

"You saved my life," he answered. "And you reminded me what living was."

"... guess that makes us even."

"Not really." At the other's confused gaze, Cloud continued. "You didn't just make me learn to live. You made me learn to love."

Leon turned forward again, his head bowed. "... still even."

It was Cloud's turn to be confused. "... what?"

"It wasn't two years ago, when I was first drawn to you," the other explained quietly. "It was three."

There was silence, begging for more details. Thankfully, they were given:

"When you first came to Hollow Bastion, that night after the others left you alone to adjust... I followed you outside, to see what you would do. You stood at the edge of the Dark Depths, like you were considering just disappearing into them and not coming back. But then it started raining..."

Cloud remembered that moment. He remembered how tired he had felt, burdened with the knowledge that any true peace was beyond him, that he had no hope of escape from the darkness – that his coming here only endangered the others while Sephiroth remained out there and waiting for him. He remembered that he _had_ considered disappearing again.

He remembered the rain that had suddenly fell on him, cooling his head, slowing his steps. Like the sky was bidding him to reconsider, bidding him to return to shelter... to the others who waited for him...

"... You started to laugh. You just stood there, soaking in the rain, laughing with this sudden, inexplicable aura of _hope_. It was the most amazing thing I had ever witnessed."

Then Leon raised his head once more, though he did not turn back. "I never saw you get like that ever again, and I guess I was aware of that at the time, but right then and there, you were... simply breathtaking. I don't understand it myself, but I just wanted to do whatever it took to see you that peaceful and happy again. You made me want to be better than what I was, to be strong enough to help you achieve that peace."

And then the man stopped and stared morosely down at his lap. "So much for that, anyway."

Cloud paused, taking in the sight of the other before him. Leon had lost weight since the accident, and not all of it had been muscle mass – getting the man to eat remained a daily fight between them with varying results. He had kept the cropped hairstyle, deciding that maintaining shorter hair was easier so he could do it himself. The belts were gone, every last one of them – Leon no longer had the dexterity to secure his arm bands on his own, and forewent the rest to prevent cutting off his blood circulation from sitting on them all the time.

Here and now, he remained a shadow of his former self – thinner and more vulnerable.

Moving his hand, Cloud let Leon fall against his chest before wrapping his arms around him in a possessive hug. Leon had stiffened in surprise, but remained too stunned to relax as Cloud held him there – held him close.

"When you saved my life two years ago," the blond confessed this time, "you were the strongest man I had ever met. You still are."

Because he knew very well, that no matter how strong or resilient, no matter how tall he stood against an enemy he could strike, Squall had not come back from the darkness. Squall did not return and face the struggle every day of adjusting to his disability if only for the sake of those who waited for him.

This Leon was here, now, having achieved what Squall didn't, with a different kind of strength that he probably never knew he had.

Everything was different now. Time wasn't on their side, their future had never been certain. And he waited too long, kept too far away from Squall. He couldn't do this to Leon, not again.

"... If I told you I still love you," he asked, "what would you say?"

Leon was quiet, but he was starting to relax, to let himself sink against his chest and into those arms.

"I would say," he answered at last, almost a whisper, "Don't you let me go."


End file.
